


Forever

by fundamentalBlue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Camping, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fundamentalBlue/pseuds/fundamentalBlue
Summary: Tony was not a camper. He was not an outdoorsman. In fact, he loathes all those things.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020, Stony*





	Forever

Tony was not a camper. He was not an outdoorsman. In fact, he loathes all those things. 

Which is why he’s the opposite of in love with his best friend right now. His new best friend is this flask of whiskey, which he’s currently making love to with his mouth. 

“Rhodey this place is awful. I hate bugs. I hate dirt. And my phone isn’t getting any signal.” He passes the whiskey to Rhodey, who leans over to take it with a curve of his lips and a soft grunt. 

“This is the outdoors Tony. It’s real, you’re here, and you should try to enjoy it,” Rhodey says with exasperation. Pepper follows it up with a smile and a swig of some dubiously flavored liquor in a flask.

“This is only to get away from my parents. I’m miserable at home, and you guys are the only thing that keeps me sane. I’m here for you, not any other reason.” He makes grabby hands at the flask and Pepper passes it over. 

“Just try, Tony,” Pepper says. 

“Yeah well,” he stares off into the distance, unwilling to contradict his friend’s misguided opinion. “I’m going to go try in the forest while I take a piss.” 

He wanders away from them, dissatisfied with everything. His parents are breathing down his neck all the time, and he just wants to _escape_. 

The campfire wavers in the distance and he takes another drink. God, it’s gross. Some kind of flavored Brandy. 

He despises this place, he thinks, smacking his arm to stop an errant mosquito. There are bugs out here, and everything smells like pine and loam. 

It’s not dark yet, but it’s dusk, which is why he doesn’t see whatever it is he trips on. But he sure as hell sees the log he split his head on when he wakes up with a splitting headache. 

Now it’s dark, and he looks around. There, through the trees, is the fire, its flames dancing merrily along, taunting him. Fuck. His head hurts. He touches his fingers to his forehead and they come away sticky. He’s certain that’s not pine sap. 

He’s laying there on the cold ground, covered in pine needles and feeling sorry for himself, when he hears shuffling in front of him. The noise is somewhere between him and the fire and he reflexively tenses, waiting silently for whatever it is to reveal itself. 

Nature is horrid. 

It’s probably just a deer. Or an ambitious skunk. Oh fuck if it’s a skunk that would be terrible for him. 

The noise peters out and goes the other direction, towards the camp. He breathes a sigh of relief and gets up, dusting his pants off of whatever else is laying on the ground. 

Which is when he sees it in the clearing in front of him, not twenty feet away. A wolf.

Rhodey had said there were no large predators out here. Not even black bears, and those fuckers are the raccoons of the large predator world. 

But here is this wolf. 

And he’s huge, like, Tony is doing eyeball measurements and it’s like the head alone is over a foot long. Wait, can the heads be that big? Because this guy is big. He probably stands up to Tony’s torso. Which, all of those thoughts are not the ones he should be having right now. He should be getting out of here. Maybe he can toss a stick or something ridiculous like that. 

The wolf keeps staring at him, its eyes lit up under the gibbous moon, which has just come out to crest the top of the mountains. 

“Ok, buddy. Um, I’m very sorry I’m in your space, but you are standing between me and the other people. I’m not tasty. I assure you. I’m the stringiest of meats and I subsist on a diet of alcohol and cheap pizza.” 

It takes a step forward. 

“Come on dude, I have friends to get back to. Can we not do this?” Wolves aren’t supposed to attack people. He’s read that somewhere, he knows he has. 

But it takes another step, head dipping down to scent the ground while keeping its eyes on Tony. 

And Tony, well, he backs up, stepping over the log that he knows is there, keeping himself facing forward. 

He then trips on what must be another log, falling backward onto his ass on some branches. The wolf doesn’t move, thank god, and he plucks out a broken branch to hold onto. 

Scrambling up, he holds the branch out in front of him like it’s going to be able to help. Maybe with poking it, getting it angry, but not much more than that. So he decides to toss it in the wolf’s direction, see if it gets scared. 

He’s not a very good shot, and the branch lands somewhere off to the left of the wolf, which just looks at him instead of even considering that the branch could harm it. That is not good at all. He just knows that the wolf is thinking about eating him. 

His heart is starting to pound, and his hands are clammy with sweat. He pulls his elbows tight to his body, his shoulders clenched together. 

The wolf trots forward just a little bit and Tony, feeling like an idiot, scrabbles backward. 

And the wolf _follows_. 

This is so fucking creepy. He doesn’t want to be here. He should have stayed home. 

He looks longingly towards the fire and decides that he should try to go left or right to circle back around to the campsite. But the minute he moves forward and left, the wolf turns and makes to block his path, almost like he’s a herding dog. 

“Come on, let me go you giant fluffy asshole,” Tony says, growling to himself. He takes a deep breath and holds it tight. This whole situation feels unnatural, the light of the moon making the forest feel frozen in time, the eerie silence of the land lending to the timeless sensation. His thoughts are skipping everywhere, like a stone across a pond. He needs to get to the fire. He needs to run. He needs to get _away_.

He tries to feint right, but the wolf doesn’t take it, and walks forward again, this time not stopping its movement at all. Tony, who is terrified out of his mind by this point, decides that he has a better chance of running back to the fire. 

It may not be the best choice, because the second he darts to make a run for it, the wolf _leaps_ to the side and forward, and Tony is _terrified_. He instinctively turns and runs, a little voice in his head crying that this is the worst of ideas. 

_You never run from a predator._

But here he is, running away from the fire and his friends, his mind and heart racing with him, each slam of his feet on the ground pounding in time with his pulse. 

He runs and runs, scraping himself on tree branches and almost slamming into a tree more than a few times. The moonlight helps him see and he skids between trees as best he can, trying to run in a bit of a zig-zag instead of a straight line. His heart is screaming at him, his lungs scrunched tight to his ribs and aching for breath. Tony’s mouth is dry, debris crusted at the corners of his lips. 

Tony is not athletic. This is not what he planned to have happen on his first time camping. He doesn’t think anyone would plan something like this.

Finally, he has to stop, and he turns around quickly to see if the wolf is there, whipping his head and craning his neck to see. 

The clearing behind him is empty. 

He can’t see the fire anymore, and he isn’t exactly sure of where he is, but he knows it’s deep into the forest. 

“Thank god.” Tony leans over to rest his hands on his knees, out of breath, and still running high on adrenaline. His limbs quake with exertion, and he can feel his body shiver with exhaustion. 

“Oof!” 

Something topples into him and he keels over, hitting the ground roughly, yelping as his hands scrape across debris and his knees bloom with pain. 

A low growl comes from behind him and Tony flips around instinctively, kicking out.

The wolf latches onto the hem of his pants and starts wrenching at the fabric, its head whipping back and forth like a dog with a chew toy. 

He screams, kicking more, scrabbling at the ground with his hands, elbows digging into the dirt beneath him. 

His pants start to rip and Tony makes a split second, instinctual decision to undo his belt and slip out of his pants. The fabric slides down, his boots being narrow enough to fit through the legs, with the wolf doing a good rendition of Tony’s bed time routine. Finally, he’s free of his pants, and he rolls over, hoisting himself up from the ground and makes to run again. 

He doesn’t make it very far as he’s tackled, this time the wolf’s paws hard on his back while he freezes, feeling a whiff of hot air on his neck. 

He’s so fucking dead. And he’s going to die pantsless in this forest. They’re going to find his body half eaten somewhere and that’ll be the end of Tony Stark. 

The huff of breath on his neck and the solid weight of the wolf on top of him stay consistent. Tony scrunches his eyes shut, waiting for the thing to snap at his neck and break it, or otherwise just dive right in and start eating him. 

It doesn’t happen. 

Instead, the wolf starts to _lick_ at his neck, snuffling in his ear with its rough nose. It steps off of him, its legs bracketing Tony’s sides. He doesn’t dare move. 

“Ok buddy, you’ve had your sniffs, now _please_ , let me go.” All he gets is a low growl that has him seizing up in fear. 

Slowly, slowly it nuzzles down his back, sniffing and huffing at his body, until it reaches his boxers. He feels its nose dig around, and he has no idea what to think as the wolf bites at his waist band and _pulls_. 

“Jesus fuck.” The air on his exposed ass is cold, but worse is the discomfort of it, the exposure and vulnerability. He has no idea what’s going on, but this has passed the range of wild animal and is treading into sentient cryptid territory. He has no idea what this _thing_ is going to do. He has no idea what it is, but it’s not a wolf. His whole body shivers and he reflexively swallows. 

“Ok if you can understand me, I’m not consenting. I’m not—” 

He gets a nose straight into his crack for his impertinence, and he yelps, wiggling forward and pulling at the ground with his hands. 

Another growl and he stops struggling immediately. 

His vision starts to blur as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. He doesn’t know where the urge to cry came from, but now that it’s here, he’s holding on by a thread, trying to keep his sanity. Getting away feels impossible, but he _has_ to. He has to escape. 

Involuntarily, he jerks forward again, a sob tearing loose from his mouth. 

The wolf nips him on his ass and Tony cries out again, trying desperately to hold back, but finding it impossible. 

It’s nosing in his ass again, warm breath tickling his perineum. He doesn’t dare move, even when a long, wet tongue wedges itself in between his cheeks and _licks_. 

“Oh fuck, please—” It doesn’t stop. The wolf is relentless, and Tony feels a warm swirl in the pit of his stomach that he identifies as arousal. It feels so good. He’s been rimmed before, but the wolf’s tongue is all lean muscle and flicks perfectly in and out of his hole, coaxing the muscle to relax. His hips twitch back into the sensation, and he groans and then hiccups, tears still coating his face. 

Finally, the wolf stops and huffs again, and steps forward. Its hot breath is back on his neck, and he whimpers plaintively. 

The wolf bites down, not as hard as he knows that it can, but hard enough to pierce his shirt and sink into his shoulder. Tony cries out. It’s ungodly painful, and he’s been bitten by a dog before. This is nothing like that. The teeth are razor sharp and of all the stupid things he thinks of as it happens, are that he could get an infection. He should be so much more worried about the fact that he’s being bitten, which is a precursor to being eaten. 

“Ahh! Please, please let me go.” The wolf holds tight and pulls at his shoulder with his teeth, causing Tony to release another sob of pain. Adrenaline is keeping him from feeling most of the discomfort, but it _hurts_. 

It crowds itself over Tony’s body, the heat from its belly drifting over Tony’s back. He feels something wet slip down onto his pinned legs and his blood runs cold. 

The wolf’s grip tightens on his shoulder and he feels the slide of its cock up and down his crack, a wet warmth that makes him shiver and shake. This is well beyond anything that a wild animal would do. He’s not sure if he’s more frightened by the idea that the wolf is semi-sentient and isn’t interested in his consent, or if this really is just an animal that’s interested in… fucking him. 

But, amazingly, there’s also a sense of relief at the idea that it’s just sex. The wolf doesn’t want to rip him to shreds, or it already would have. Tony can always get back to camp and clean up the bite mark. It may be dark all around him, but he’s sure that he can just go the direction he came from and find where he’s supposed to be. Hope curls through him, and he tries to shunt all the other sensations he’s experiencing away. He just has to endure. No matter how sick and wrong this is, it _will_ be over at some point. Making it there is all that matters. 

“Fuck.” He gets hit with a particularly rough thrust between his legs, and he feels fur tickle at his back. The wolf rocks back and forth, fucking itself onto Tony. Tony tries not to think about what the wolf’s dick must look like, or whether it’s getting off at all. 

His shoulder is steadily aching now from where the wolf is clamped down. The sting of it grounds him and helps him remember not to move. Tony finds that he’s losing himself in the rhythmic sensation of having his thighs fucked. 

Abruptly, the wolf lets go, its teeth extracting themselves from his skin and the wolf shuffling away. Tony plants his hands on the ground in front of him and makes to get up, slowly getting to his knees and then his feet. 

He sways a bit while standing, feeling the surreal reality of what just happened. It might not even be over either. 

The trees stand in stark contrasted light, and he gazes outward into the forest with longing. He should run. He should absolutely run. 

“Fuck.” His gut suddenly churns with pain and he takes a stumbling step forward. It roils again, rumbling from his stomach up to his ribs and down to his groin. He falls to the ground, curling in on himself. Looking up at the path to escape, he sees that the wolf has come to stand before him, stock still and watching. 

“God, fuck, it hurts!” His legs and arms begin to ache, and the pain in his belly sharpens into a fine point. Slamming his hands on the ground before him, he braces himself for the next wave of sensation. Which is when he notices the hair on his hands darkening and becoming longer, his nails extending into tips. 

Tony has seen this horror movie before, and he’s not here for it.

But it doesn’t seem to matter, as he watches his limbs thin out, his fingers retract up into stubby toes while his organs rearrange themselves. His bones don’t seem to break so much as shrink, which makes him think there’s some sort of magic involved, rather than biological process. He’s always hated magic, because it’s not real. This shouldn’t even be real. 

_Mine._ He hears echoing in his head. 

_What?_

_My mate._

And now he’s hearing things, like the wolf in front of him talking in his head. 

His shirt feels uncomfortable on his new body, but it doesn’t stop him from turning and attempting to run, this time getting much farther with his newly transformed legs before he’s tackled unceremoniously to the ground. 

_You’re mine now._ He hears it as well as feels it in the warm breath that’s in his ear. The other wolf goes for his nape then, and it feels so good to be bitten there, that Tony immediately droops into compliance. 

This time, when he feels the heat of the other wolf’s cock, the arousal is so strong that he hears himself whimper with need. The other wolf mounts him, legs pinning his own, and presses the tip of his cock into Tony. For whatever reason, he feels slick and open back there, and the cock catches on his rim before sliding oh so carefully in. 

Tony keens, the stretch and burn of it all he can focus on as it steadily presses into him, inch after inch pushing him wide open. He can feel his hips cant back, giving the other wolf room to work himself in, each aborted thrust taking him deeper. It feels better than human sex, like a high that Tony has never experienced and doesn’t want to come down from. 

_Beautiful._ He hears, and it makes him mewl with pleasure as it scratches across his brain. The wolf doesn’t thrust so much as rock back and forth, and before Tony can even parse out that he’s spreading his legs for this _Werewolf_ , he feels a swelling inside of him. It’s so good, tight in his channel and pressing into him deeply. 

The wolf rolls its hips, snapping its cock hard into Tony, the length of it expanding now to lock into Tony. Fuck, the wolf is knotting him, keeping their bodies together in order to pump Tony full of his come, filling him up. It doesn’t take long, and he can feel the rippling of flesh inside him, the spasms of muscle that come from the wolf’s cock inflating. 

_This is your home now._

Tony’s pleasure curdles into despair. He’s a werewolf, and he knows in his heart he’s been mated to the wolf that’s on top of him. He’ll track Tony anywhere he goes, for the rest of Tony’s life. 

He should have never come here. 

_But I’m glad you did. You’ll be with me forever._

_Forever?_

_Forever._

\-------------

“You’re not going to find anything, likely. These forests swallow corpses.”

“Yeah, I get it, thanks.” Rhodey’s tour guide has been a fount of negative comments since they left the station. He gets that the man is right, but this is his best friend they’re talking about. Ever since Tony disappeared a year ago, Rhodey has spent every guilt ridden month coming back to this place to look. He’s not sure what he’s trying to find, but there’s something that tells him that Tony can’t be dead. That he wouldn’t just disappear. Tony has always been larger than life.

“Found a missing hiker’s tent once, but the animals had gotten to the body. Wasn’t much left. At least it was enough to make an identification. So maybe you’ll have some luck and find that!”

“Look, can you just let me go look on my own for a bit. I’ve got the GPS unit with me. I can get back to the latitude and longitude. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Well, I could, but it isn’t exactly safe.”

“I insist.”

“Your funeral.” 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Sometimes Rhodey thinks that he wants to get lost in the forest here, and that if he does, he’ll find Tony that very moment. And then they’ll find their way back, together. He lost sight of that fantasy being a reality after a couple of months. 

He trudges off away from his guide and walks through the trees, which are mostly pine. He doesn’t even recognize any of it, though this is exactly where they had camped last time. He’ll never go dispersed camping again. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’ll camp ever again. Pepper hasn’t forgiven him, and he hasn’t forgiven himself. 

There’s a rustle of leaves in front of him from a bush, and he freezes, instinct nailing him to the spot. The bush shakes again, and a little furred, brown face pops out of the middle. It takes him a second to calibrate what kind of animal it is. 

Coyote? Those are common enough. 

But when the animal fully leaves the shelter of the leaves, he can see that it’s much bigger than a coyote, and he knows full well from the guide that wolves shouldn't be here. 

It is remarkably beautiful, its hair a dark brown and its eyes a light gold that belongs in a sunset rather than set into an animal’s face. It shakes itself like a dog and stands tall in front of Rhodey, not thirty feet away. 

“Hey big guy.” Now he knows he shouldn’t feed it, but it’s rather cute, and doesn’t seem to be afraid of him. It also looks like it’s alone, which is odd in and of itself. Wolves run in packs, but this guy doesn’t have anyone with him. 

The wolf whines then, before dipping its head to sniff the ground and looking up again. It takes a step forward, then two, before it starts ambling slowly towards Rhodey. 

It hits him then that wolves are dangerous predators, and he probably shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior. He very carefully leans down and picks up a stick before tossing it at the wolf, who stops in his tracks. 

“Sorry buddy. Unless you’ve seen a 5’8” mouthy human brunet, you can scram.” He tries not to imagine this wolf gnawing on his friend, but it’s the thought of it that makes him feel irrationally angry, and he grabs another stick, tossing it at the wolf harder. It hits the wolf on his side, which causes it to whine sadly before it dips back into the bushes. 

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here. He knows he isn’t going to find anything. With a sigh, he makes his way back to the guide, promising himself that this is the last time.


End file.
